


What you need

by DarylDixonGrimes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU - no carl, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, bottom!daryl, i'll add more to the tags when they start doing it, idk what kinky shit is gonna go down yet, top!rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylDixonGrimes/pseuds/DarylDixonGrimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane knows what Rick needs after Lori leaves him, and what Rick needs is a guilt-free roll around in the sheets. A trip to the seedier part of town and Shane delivers a lovely prostitute by the name of Daryl right to Rick's door step. </p><p>Or the one where Shane buys Rick a hooker to cheer him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How much?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my brain for giving me this idea at midnight last night. 
> 
> This is going to be a mini-series. Probably 5 chapters or less, I hope.

Shane Walsh knew where to get things. It was one of those skills that came with the territory of being a cop--the knowledge of where to get the best hamburgers in town or a reliable used vehicle or cheap uniform pants. On the other side of the coin, he also knew where to get bootleg DVDs and stolen guns and crack cocaine if he ever felt inclined to do any of those things (well, okay, maybe he’d bought a few DVDs).  
  
One of the many things Shane knew how to get was a good whore. A quality babe with all of her teeth and no serious drug addictions that might lead to her robbing you blind or stabbing you in a fit of paranoia. One who did the job for a living and was in it for the long haul with regular testing down at the free clinic and a pretty strict condom policy. To the right person, he’d even admit that he’d taken one or more home on several occasions.

He only arrested the ones who were on serious drugs or who he suspected were working against their will and needed a ticket out. The rest, he left alone.  
  
He was never one for busting people who weren’t dangerous in some way. It just didn’t suit him to take down a woman trying to make an honest living when some asshole one street over was cooking meth or trying to buy a kid online. That and he kind of liked knowing they were there when he needed them.  
  
But tonight wasn’t about Shane.  
  
Rolling past an ancient brick building with boarded up windows, Shane took a left. He knew the area well. Sketchy neighborhood or not, the working women had chosen their personal red light district strategically. A CVS around the corner meant 24-hour snacks and drinks. It also meant condoms and lubricant and a well-lit building with video surveillance if shit got out of hand. Next to the CVS was a run-down motel that rented rooms both by the night and by the hour.  
  
Shane drove past both before rounding the corner onto a thin side-street with sparse security lighting. He slowed his vehicle and puttered down the pavement, practically motionless. A glance at his dash told him he was going 7 MPH.  
  
The street looked abandoned at first. It always did until someone from the shadows glanced in the window and found a familiar face or at least decided that the guy in the car wasn't the murdering type. Then one by one, the workers peeled themselves from their dark corners and descended like some kind of sex smörgåsbord.  
  
Shane’s car was surrounded in seconds by women dressed in everything from regular jeans to skirts so short he could already see they weren’t wearing underwear without even having to pay. He reminded his cock again that he wasn’t there for his own personal gratification before stopping the car and getting out.  
  
“Hey there, Walshy,” a girl said. He knew her as Honey. He knew at least three quarters of them by name.  
  
“Come to arrest me, Officer? I’ve been a bad, bad girl.” He watched Cassandra lick lips so red they could probably kill a man in better lighting.  
  
“Gonna show us your night stick, baby?”  
  
Shane smiled and shook his head.  
  
“Not tonight, ladies,” Shane said. “I’m shopping for a friend.”  
  
Shane leaned against the side of his car, eyes passing over each woman one by one. Rick had insisted that he not do something like this, that he was fine with Lori taking off out of blue. That after a year and finally giving up on her actually coming back, he was over it and just needed a little time before getting back in the saddle.

But Rick had been his best friend since they were shitting themselves in diapers. Shane knew what he needed and that was to sink his cock into a tight guilt-free pussy that came without any strings. Rick didn’t need to get back in the saddle at all. He just needed to be ridden fucking hard.  
  
“They all say they’re shopping for a friend,” Candy said, winking at him. Shane looked her up and down, appraising. While he knew what Rick needed in theory, he had no idea what it actually looked like. He’d just felt like he’d know it when he saw it.  
  
“Hope it’s that partner of yours. The one with the bow legs and the face made for sitting.”  
  
Shane smiled again. One of his other favorite things about the working girls was that they were all fun as hell to be around. Not because they were dirty, but because outside of when they had to pretend for work, they didn’t fuck around with small talk and bullshit. He liked people who shot straight. Always had.  
  
“Can you pretty ladies get under a light so I can see you?” Shane asked, looking around until his eyes fell on a nearby building. A dull yellow circle took up a pretty large expanse of the outer brick wall. It would have worked nicely for a spot to line all the women up if it wasn't for the man who stood dead center, his hands in his pockets.    
  
“Think you might be neglecting another potential customer,” Shane said, jerking his head at the guy.  
  
“You mean Daryl?” Honey asked. “No, Walshy, he works here too. Newest employee. Still on probie.”  
  
Shane raised both eyebrows almost immediately. It wasn’t that out of the ordinary for men to sell themselves. He’d seen a couple of mug shots float across his desk over the years. But he’d never seen a male prostitute in the wild. He stepped closer, curiosity getting the better of him.  
  
The guy immediately started bowing up as he approached, like a wild cat raising its hackles. The hands came out of his jean pockets, and it wasn’t lost on Shane why. He was ready to defend himself if he had to.  
  
And damn, Shane was glad he wasn’t about to pick a fight. Training or not, those biceps would have meant a nasty bruise wherever the guy managed to land a punch.   
  
“Don’t want no trouble,” Daryl said, giving him a once-over. An assessment of the potential threat. “Shit, you a cop?”  
  
“Yes,” Shane said, giving him a once-over himself. Even straight, Shane could tell the guy had some nice features. The cheekbones. The eyes. Something in his gut said, _this_. This was what Rick needed. The Rick who had confessed he had a crush on Shane before the eighth grade dance. The Rick who he’d caught jerking off once to his Indiana Jones poster. The Rick who’d told him one night that he loved Lori deeply and would never cheat on her, but that it didn’t change who he was.  
  
He'd told Shane he wouldn’t do it any differently than he had, but he still wished he’d had time to explore.  
  
He had that time now.  
  
“How much for the night?” Shane asked.  
  
“Ain’t for sale,” Daryl said, his eyes skittering nervously from Shane to the group of girls behind him to the wall of the building on the opposite side of the street. "Just hanging out here. Ain't a crime."   
  
“He won’t arrest you,” Cassandra said. Shane glanced back. The girls had joined him, probably curious to see what he wanted with the new guy. “Nice big dick too. You said you like those.”  
  
Daryl visibly blushed, scratching at his neck nervously, his eyes trained on the sidewalk somewhere around Shane’s shoes.  
  
“My dick won’t be there,” Shane said. “You’d be a gift for someone else. But I think his dick is probably pretty decent.”   
  
Daryl chewed on his bottom lip for a second before answering.   
  
“Usually $10 an hour, but I guess $100’s enough for the whole night,” he said, briefly making eye contact with Shane again without maintaining it. “Extra for some stuff.”  
  
“Some stuff?” Shane asked. Rick was worth it. Even if all he did was fucking kiss the guy or hold his hand, if it helped at all, he would gladly pay triple what Daryl wanted.  
  
Daryl brought a thumb to his mouth and worried at it with his teeth, the epitome of embarrassed to the point of not being able to answer. Shane couldn’t tell if he was just so new that everything still made him uncomfortable or if he was just laying the shy angle on thick. Some guys got off on that virginal shit.   
  
“I gotta ask,” Shane said. “Want to make sure anything I think he’d want is paid for up front.”  
  
“Shit and piss,” Daryl said. “Extra $50 for either.”  
  
“He won’t want that,” Shane said. “Anything else extra?”  
  
Daryl shook his head once before looking up at him again. “You allowed to arrest me even if you said you won’t?”  
  
“Technically Honey is the one who said I wouldn't,” Shane said. “But I won’t. If these ladies are letting you hook here, you’re probably not up to anything that would actually make me want to.”  
  
Shane looked back at the women behind him, inviting them to warn him if the guy wasn’t up to par. He hadn't caught any bad vibes from Daryl so far and his instincts were usually pretty spot on, but double-checking had never hurt anyone. He'd learned that much after all his years.    
  
“He’s clean,” Cassandra said. “Doesn’t even smoke weed.”  
  
Shane nodded at her, satisfied, and then turned back to Daryl.  
  
“If you’re in, get in the car,” Shane said. He started walking back toward the sedan without even checking to see if the other man was following. Something told him that the universe intended for him to deliver Daryl to Rick that night. Something in the air felt electric, charged with possibilities like the atmosphere before a summer storm.  
  
The word “fate” floated across his consciousness as he rounded the hood of his car, and he shook it off. Fate felt like too grandiose a word for something as simple as buying his friend a hooker. Still, the sound of his passenger door handle being pulled behind him made him smile more than it should have. Shane opened his own door and slipped into the driver's seat.   
  
Rick was going to owe him big when Christmas rolled around.  
  



	2. I brought you a present

Rick knew it was Shane in his yard without even having to peek out the front window. He knew it by the way the car sounded on the few loose pieces of gravel on the driveway. And by the faint thump of a bass from some of Shane’s Godawful modern country pop crossover bullshit.   
  
It was banned at the station and in Rick’s home. At least both of them could agree that Johnny Cash was and forever would be king. It made maintaining their friendship much easier.  
  
At the sound of a car door closing, Rick sighed and did his best to kick a mound of dirty clothes up under the couch. Shane had already taken to calling him “mopey” lately. If he realized Rick was still sleeping on the couch a whole year after Lori took off, well, he’d never hear the end of it.

Rick had just managed to force a pair of black jeans under the edge of the couch when he heard a second car door. His brow furrowed temporarily, but maybe Shane had something in the front seat. He wouldn’t say no to a stack of hot pizzas. Or burgers. Or anything but the single half-block of questionable cheese sitting alone and friendless in his refrigerator.

Another kick pushed a white tee under the couch, simultaneously slamming Rick’s toe into the stubby wooden leg of the sofa.   
  
“Shit,” he hissed, his accent turning the word into almost two syllables. He raked a hand through his hair, fisting some and pressing his lips together. No matter how many times he got punched in the face by a suspect, stubbing his toe was always somehow worse.   
  
A few more hisses through his teeth and he shook off the sting the best he could, grabbing his pillow and stuffing it back between the couch and wall. Just in time too. He could hear Shane’s footsteps on the wooden stairs of his porch. Not just Shane’s though.   
  
Someone was behind him. Where Shane walked with sure, almost haughty steps, this person seemed to shuffle along nervously behind him.   
  
Great. All Rick wanted to do was meet Shane’s latest. Or be set up with some poor girl who would resent both him and Shane when she realized Rick was in no position to be in a healthy relationship yet.   
  
Christ, please don’t let it be a set up.   
  
“Rick, open up,” Shane called, rapping on the front door with large knuckles. Rick punted one last sock toward the bedroom before strolling to the front door.   
  
“Don’t suppose you brought dinner, Shane. I could re-” Rick faltered as he opened the front door. He had fully expected to see a girl standing behind his partner and best friend. Tall and wire thin with dark hair—that was Shane’s type. Maybe something different if she _was_ for Rick.   
  
But what stood behind Shane was different entirely. Different enough that it made Rick reach over and flick on the porch light. The man behind Shane flinched subtly at being illuminated. He made eye contact with Rick in a way that suggested it was purely by accident, flicking sapphire blues down toward the porch the second their eyes met. 

Rick used the opportunity to take in the rest of him.   
  
Shoulders wide enough to bridge a canal, strong arms kissed by the Georgia sun, dark hair that flipped subtly around his face and at the nape of his neck. 

Something Rick had locked away a long time ago stirred quietly inside of him.   
  
The thought that he should ask who the man was had barely flitted across his consciousness when Shane spoke.   
  
“I brought you a present,” Shane said, bringing Rick back to reality. He looked over at his friend, standing in his doorway with a smug grin plastered across his face.   
  
This couldn’t be good.   
  
“Who is...”   
  
“This is Daryl,” Shane said, slipping his arm around the back of the man and urging him closer. Blue eyes flicked to Rick’s again so fast he would’ve missed it if he blinked. “He’s for you.”

The stirring inside Rick intensified even as his brain struggled to comprehend.   
  
“He’s what?”   
  
“Picked him up in across the tracks,” Shane said. “Bought and paid for.”   
  
The stirring turned to butterflies that spilled out of Rick’s stomach and fluttered wildly through his veins. Curiosity and disbelief warred inside of his head. He grabbed Shane by the shirt and pulled him inside.   
  
“One second,” Rick said, holding up a finger in Daryl’s direction. And then he shut the door, leaving him on his porch.   
  
“You bought me a _hooker_?” Rick asked, letting go of his partner. “A hooker. Just what are you thinking, Shane?”

“What am I thinking?” Shane said, scratching at the back of his head. “I’m thinking that you need to stop moping around like a sad little puppy dog and get back on the horse. I don’t like seeing you like this, man.”   
  
“So your solution to that problem was to get me a prostitute?”   
  
“You always said you wished you’d gotten to try it out,” Shane said. “She’s gone. No reason you can’t now.”   
  
“Jesus, Shane,” Rick said.

“He’s been paid for the whole night,” Shane said. “Listen, Rick, you don’t have to do a thing with him you don’t want to. Fuck him until the sun comes up. Curl up on the couch and spoon him if you'd rather. Just do something besides work and watch old Andy Griffith reruns like some sad old man.”

Rick wiped a hand over his face, trying to find his cool. Because as much as he hated it and as fucked up as the idea was, something told him Shane was right. If he kept on the path he was on now, he was going to end up dying alone on his couch. He exhaled carefully, forcing the breath out though his nose in a slow and even stream.   
  
“You gonna let him in?” Shane asked. “It's rude to leave a guest on the porch like that.”

Rick sighed, a small growl of frustration creeping into the sound. He jerked his head toward the door, glaring at Shane when his face cracked into another smug grin.

“Come on in,” Shane said, opening the door for Daryl who nervously crossed the threshold. “Text me when you’re done if you want me to come get him,” Shane said. “Be seeing you, Rick.”   
  
And then Shane closed the front door, leaving Rick alone in his living room with Daryl. The officer tried to open his mouth to speak, but Daryl was already making his way across the living room, approaching him like a nervous stray. Rick watched him sink to his knees in front of him before he could even form words.   
  
Daryl's left hand found Rick's soft cock through his pants, rubbing and gently squeezing while his other hand worked at the button of his jeans.

Rick mm'd softly, his whole body almost immediately screaming out with want. It had been so long since anyone had.... But no… Not… This was too fast. Too much, too soon.   
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rick said, his brain finally restored to some kind of working order. He gently pressed his hands on top of Daryl’s to stop him.   
  
“You don’t want me to…?” Daryl looked up at him with confused blue eyes. “Pretty much how they all want me to start.”   
  
“I don’t know what I want,” Rick said. “I don’t know if I even want to do anything with you if I’m being honest. But we have a whole night if I decide I do want...that. No need to rush.”

Daryl squinted up at him and Rick had the distinct feeling the man was searching him, looking through him and not at him. It should have made him feel vulnerable. Instead he just felt relieved that someone was seeing him, really seeing him. He offered his hand and helped the other man up off the floor.

“Look,” Rick said, trying to think of a way to move past the awkwardness permeating the room. Even if he didn’t sleep with Daryl, he felt obligated to host him now. “Have you eaten tonight?”

Rick had never seen Daryl before on the job, which meant he was more than likely new to the job. Even the more experienced workers with regular Joes sometimes missed meals. And Rick was going to need energy to do..whatever it is they were going to do.   
  
Daryl jerked his head slightly to the left.   
  
“Me neither,” Rick said, picking his keys up off the coffee table. “You good with burgers?”   
  
“Ain’t got no money on me.” Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets, chewing on his bottom lip.   
  
“Consider it a tip,” Rick said.   
  
“Usually gotta do somethin to get a tip.”   
  
“You’re keeping me company in the car,” Rick said. “That’s enough for me. Come on.”

Daryl shrugged and quietly followed Rick out the door.   
  


 


	3. Freddy's Grill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ngl but I completely forgot I ever started this story and I'm sorry. lol

Freddy’s Grill didn’t look like much from the outside. The building had been a gas station once upon a time and the remnants of old gas pumps still stood outside, corroding and rusting with time. The once white paint on the outside of the structure cracked and peeled more and more each day, and the windows were rarely ever clean.

But inside, the place was warm and inviting, all cherry red booths and checkered tablecloths. It was always full of people who knew that looks were deceiving. Or people who had been lured in by the smell of grilled onions that seemed to waft out of the building and permeate the entire block.

“How is it?” Rick asked, though the question felt pointless. Daryl had already devoured half of the large cheeseburger, the juices from it dripping down his hands and onto his fries.

A grunt was Daryl’s answer, and Rick watched him lean his head down to run his tongue from his wrist to his fingers. He thought about offering the other man a napkin, but there was something about Daryl sucking the hamburger grease off his fingers that was a little too appealing to interrupt.

A tiny voice in the back of Rick’s mind reminded him that he _could_ fuck the man sitting across from him. Hell, he could probably do about anything he wanted to him really. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his sweet tea.

“So how did you get into your line of work?” Rick asked, picking up the other half of his burger. He always cut them in half at Freddy’s. Otherwise, they were too much to handle without making a mess.

“You ain’t gotta be nice,” Daryl said, before taking another huge bite. More grease trailed down the creases of his palms.

“I don’t have to do a lot of things,” Rick said, watching him lap at the mess. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Dipping his fry into a small cup of ranch dressing, Rick poked it into his mouth. 

“Ain’t good at much,” Daryl said. “But I’m good at this.”

“Do you actually like it though? I mean, I don’t wanna assume anything.”

The officer didn’t have the same rapport with the working girls as his partner, but he knew there were a couple who actually genuinely enjoyed their line of work. There were a few who hated it too, of course. And a whole slew who felt the same way about hooking as people did about being a cashier or a banker. Good or bad, it paid the bills.

“It’s okay,” Daryl said, flicking his eyes to Rick before adding, “depends who I’m working with.” The other man's sapphire blues were back on his food before Rick could question whether or not he’d looked at him on purpose.

He ate another fry and another, watching Daryl eat in his periphery. Curiosity bubbled.

“Tell me about one?” Rick asked, glad that Daryl had made a beeline for the back corner the table the second they’d gotten their food.

“About one of the guys?” Daryl asked. And Rick could already tell what he was thinking. Being a prostitute came with some unspoken rules about confidentiality. Hell, it was probably one of the only rules they really had. 

“Nothing specific,” Rick said. “Just tell me about one of your favorite nights at work.”

“Not here,” Daryl said, pushing the last bite of his burger in his mouth. And any response Rick might have had died before it even properly formed as Daryl began sucking each finger clean individually. Every single digit came out of Daryl’s mouth with a quiet sucking sound and a faint pop.

He exhaled, louder and a little less smoothly than he should have, and Daryl’s eyes flew to his, instantly dark and mischievous. It was the first time since Shane had brought him to his doorstep that Daryl maintained eye contact for more than a couple of seconds.

Staring directly at Rick, Daryl slowly sucked a finger into his mouth and drew it back out. Without even realizing it, Rick completely pulverized a fry between his own fingers.

The sounds Daryl made when he popped the next finger into his mouth were obscene, and Rick cleared his throat just to cover them up.

“Are you ready to go?” the officer asked calmly, barely able to hear himself over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“You’re in charge,” Daryl said, standing up. He stretched his arms above his head next to the table, his body lithe and borderline lethal like a prowling wildcat. Beneath the bottom of his shirt, Rick caught a brief peek of creamy skin.

Casually adjusting his jeans under the table, a thing that made one of Daryl’s eyebrows flick almost imperceptibly, Rick stood up.

The walk to the car barely registered in the officer’s head. Instead of his own feet, he focused on sound of the boots shuffling along behind him. He paused in front of the driver side door, watching Daryl circle around his car before he grabbed the handle and slipped inside. The hunger he felt was undeniable, and he had no doubt that he was gonna get Shane's money worth out of the man in his passenger seat. 

“We’ll call him Jose,” Daryl said, after his seat belt had clicked into place.

“I’m sorry?” Rick snapped back to reality and put the key in the ignition.

“You asked about one of my favorite nights,” Daryl said. “The guy. Ain’t his real name, but...”

“Oh.” Rick cranked the vehicle and turned on the headlights. “Right, go on.”

“Picked me up real late, probably two or three in the mornin. Told me he’d just been dumped, wanted to forget.” Daryl thumbed at a hole in his jeans while he spoke, his eyes trained on the fraying denim. “For the first hour or so, all he did was talk while we smoked cigarettes. Just wanted me to listen mostly.”  

Rick glanced over at him as he pulled up to a stop sign. He noted the way Daryl’s ear poked out of his shaggy hair, a lone pale peach island in a sea of earthy brown. He added it to the steadily growing list of reasons Daryl was painfully gorgeous and deliciously fuckable. 

“Took his time,” Daryl said. “Like I said most guys want me to blow em and fuck em and get out. He had me get naked, kissed and licked me everywhere he could. Put his tongue places I've never had anyone put one before.”  

Again, Rick’s lungs betrayed him. As he imagined running his own lips down Daryl’s arm or sliding his tongue around the curve of one of those ears, he stuttered out an exhale, one that was deafeningly loud in the silence of the car. Daryl paused.

Rick waited for him to continue, panting and trying in vain to make each breath as quiet as he could. The anticipation of Daryl’s next words grew, his brain begging the man to continue. A silent little chant of “go on, please, go on” played over and over in his head.

And Rick was so focused on that, on the silence, on the waiting, that the feeling of Daryl’s hand on his knee made him jump. The car swerved a few inches to the right. He corrected it, forcing himself to focus on not killing either of them. Daryl didn't react.

“Sucked me off after that,” he said, his hand moving slowly up Rick’s thigh. “Licked and fingered my ass too.”

Rick gave up on breathing like a normal person. He glanced down to watch Daryl’s hand slide closer to his now-aching cock.

“Did he…?” Rick asked.

“Fuck me?” Daryl finished. “Yeah.”

“How?” Rick asked, licking his lips. He tried to reconcile the current conversation with the fact that he could do all of these things himself, that he was probably going to do at least most of them. Even as he fantasized, he couldn’t convince himself that he was going to be able to have this man.

“Had me turn over first,” Daryl said, his hand squeezing and kneading Rick’s upper thigh as Rick’s hips slowly bucked forward with need. “Played with my ass some more. Fingers and tongue and whatever he could reach. Then he asked me to get up on my knees, wrapped his hand around my dick.”

The second he said it, he cupped his own hand around Rick’s erection and squeezed it through his jeans. Rick’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Slid into me real slow while he stroked me,” he said, slowly rubbing Rick’s clothed erection. The officer rolled his hips up into the other man’s hand, sighing at the relief that came with delicious drag of friction. “Started easy at first, but then...”

Daryl trailed off, moving his hand from Rick’s cock to the button of his jeans. Rick darted his eyes back and forth from the road to Daryl, watching with fascination as the other man pulled the zipper of his jeans down.

A small voice in the back of Rick’s head reminded him to focus on driving, and he forced at least some of his brain to pay attention, which was no small feat as warm fingers brushed against his bare erection.

“He pounded me, good and rough,” Daryl said, pulling Rick free of his jeans. “Bed was shakin. Me too.”

And it wasn’t a very good place to end a story. There was no neat and pretty conclusion, no clear finish. But that was apparently where Daryl decided to end it as he leaned farther over into Rick’s side of the car and brought his cock between his lips.

Rick was never more grateful to see his driveway than he was in that moment. Forcing himself to focus for a few seconds longer, he pulled the car into the yard and threw it in park. Then he grabbed the handle on the side of his seat, yanked on it and groaned as he dipped backwards.

“Fuck.”

It was all the encouragement Daryl needed as he pushed his mouth all the way down the length of Rick’s erection. The officer felt himself hit the back of the other man’s throat and reached down to fist a handful of dark hair.

“Please don’t stop.”

Daryl moaned around him. Taking Rick’s words as some kind of encouragement, he started to bob on his length with fervor, softly sucking and completely devouring Rick again and again. It was without contest the best head Rick had ever gotten. No one had ever acted like they simply couldn’t get enough of him. And certainly no one had ever flicked their tongue _like that_ right there _._

He groaned roughly in the back of his throat and tugged on the strands of brown between his fingers, an action that made Daryl groan around him. 

“Jesus.” There was no way he was gonna last more than another minute or two. And then Daryl cupped and rolled his balls in one palm, and a full minute suddenly seemed like an impossibly long time. 

“I’m gonna...”

Daryl mm’d, the vibrations traveling down his erection, and then Rick came, emptying into the prostitute's mouth with a heated growl. With his lips and nimble fingers, Daryl pumped every single stream out of him, jerking and sucking until Rick went limp and boneless in his seat, his head lolling to the side.

Panting, the officer half-registering the sound of Daryl opening the car door and spitting before pulling it back shut. He reached a hand out and found the other man, groped for his hair and petted it. It was the closest thing he could manage to a thank you while he came down. And Daryl didn't seem to mind that, resting his head on Rick’s thigh and nuzzling into his touch.

It felt like forever before Rick could breathe normally again. When his heart rate finally resembled something normal again, Rick slowly leaned his head up to find Daryl staring at him, his eyes soft. 

“Shane paid for the full night, right?” he asked. And he caught the corner of Daryl’s mouth twitch. He decided he was going to kiss there first, put his lips in just the right place to catch that twitching corner and that adorable little mole above the other man's lip.

“Yours til mornin.”

Tilting his head to regard the creature half in his lap, Rick ran his hand through Daryl’s hair one more time and then worked on tucking himself back into his jeans.

“C’mon then,” Rick said, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go in and see if I can do that half as good as you just did.”


	4. What's this for?

In all honesty Rick wanted to take Daryl the second they stepped over the threshold of his home. More than that, he wanted to shove the man down on the front porch welcome mat and fuck him until they had carpet burns on their knees.

But unfortunately what Rick wanted and what Rick was physically capable of at his age were two different things.

“You drink?” he asked, heading for the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. The cold air felt good on his skin after the heat of what had just happened in his car.

“If you’re offerin.”

For some reason Rick felt the need to show off, like he was back at one of those stupid high school parties trying to get Shane or Lori’s attention. Instead of opening up the silverware drawer and getting the bottle opener out, he popped the cap on two cold beers by slamming them on the edge of the counter.

“Thanks,” Daryl said, taking a long swig. And Rick found that his eyes almost immediately laser focused on the other man’s mouth curled over the lip of the bottle. He could almost still feel them wrapped around him, tightly puckered and moving up and down him with abandon.

Without much thought, he stepped closer to the man in his kitchen, slowly moving into his personal space. And Daryl seemed to anticipate exactly what he wanted, because he lowered the bottle from his lips and leaned in so Rick could capture his lips with his own.

It was a misfire at first. Rick kissed Daryl with the fervor of someone who knew they had time to waste, someone who had wondered his whole life what kissing another man might be like. It was slow and tentative. Exploratory.

Daryl on the other hand kissed with need and frenzy. The result was messy and awkward, like two songs in vastly different genres played on top of one another. The beats didn’t match. Daryl made a little noise that seemed apologetic and Rick reached up and stroked a thumb across the pulse point in his neck reassuringly.

Sighing into his mouth in a way that Rick could never describe as anything but adorable, Daryl slowed. The awkward mismatched rhythms of their kisses slowly melded into some kind of harmony made of lips brushing and tongues sliding. The other man moaned softly and snaked an arm around Rick’s body.

They kissed for an immeasurable amount of time, breaking only to set their beers down on the counter so they were free to touch each other wherever it suited them. Rick stroked Daryl’s hair and traced a finger around the curl of his ear. He followed the slope of his chest as it moved inward toward his waist. He grabbed a handful of his ass and softly kneaded it in his hand. 

Daryl explored too. He fisted Ricks waves and scratched softly at his scalp. He ran his fingers through the short hair on Rick’s chin. He held his hips with both hands and slipped a hand under Rick’s shirt to feel his bare back.

It was a moment far more intimate than Rick ever would have expected to have with a prostitute, slowly making out in his kitchen while they stroked and caressed each other anywhere and everywhere.

When they finally broke apart with a series of soft pecks, their beers had formed puddles of condensation on the linoleum and Rick was pretty sure he was ready to explore Daryl with more than just his mouth. He picked up his beer and took a sip. The other man did the same.

“Is there anything,” Rick started, taking another drink while he formed the question he wanted to ask, “Is there anything you’ve ever wanted that you haven’t gotten?”

“Hmm?”

“Something you’ve always wanted someone to do to you,” Rick explained. Daryl had already given him the thing he’d always wanted most—a confirmation that what he’d always known about himself was undeniably true. No longer having any room to doubt himself was a powerful gift. He wanted to give Daryl something too.

“Probably ain’t what you’d wanna hear,” Daryl said, polishing off the rest of his beer in one large gulp.

“Try me.”

“Had pretty much everything dirty I ever fantasized about done to me,” he said.

“So it’s not dirty?” Rick asked. “That’s okay.”

Daryl fidgeted before answering, picking at the label of his empty bottle, his eyes focused on the paper.

“Back rub,” he said, and he looked more embarrassed about that than he had earlier telling Rick about some other man licking his asshole.

“I think we can manage that.” Rick smiled and set his own beer down unfinished. “Come on.”

He led Daryl to the bedroom, a place he hadn’t slept in so long it felt like another world. He hadn’t wanted to for the longest time. He hadn’t wanted to mess up the bed from when Lori had made it last. And when the pain finally faded enough for him to try, it just felt too quiet. Falling asleep on the couch with the TV at least made him feel less alone.

But he wasn’t alone now.

“Here,” he said, pulling the comforter down so Daryl could lay on the sheets. “Can I ask you to take your clothes off first? Actually, can I do it?”

Daryl didn’t answer. Instead he turned around and held out his arms a bit. Rick stepped forward and fingered one of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it through the hole. Another button followed, then another, then another. He leaned forward and kissed a patch of bare skin. Daryl sighed softly.

The sleeveless red plaid fell to the floor a few moments later, and Rick took a step back to admire the man. He looked even better like this. The definition of his shoulders, his pert little nipples and his subtly defined but still soft stomach.

“God you’re gorgeous,” Rick said, and Daryl looked away from him. “I hope you know that." 

The other man shrugged, and Rick stepped forward to undo the button on his jeans. A gentle tug and they fell, pooling around his boots and revealing bare thighs and a sizable erection. Precum glistened in the slit. Rick licked his lips.

“Do you usually not wear underwear, or is that just when you’re workin?” 

“Workin,” Daryl said. “Sometimes they want me quick in their car. Just easier.”

“I’m gonna see if I can find some oil,” Rick said, tearing his eyes away from Daryl’s cock. “Take your shoes off and get comfortable.”

“You really don’t gotta do this,” Daryl said.

“Get comfortable,” Rick said, a little more firmly, and then he headed for the bathroom.

A rifle through the cabinets revealed nothing but an old bottle of pomegranate lotion from Bath and Body Works shoved behind a rusty can of shaving cream. He took it out anyway. It would be better than nothing.

The kitchen came next. He pulled a can of Pam out of the cabinet by the stove and opened the pantry he barely used anymore. These days, his food was largely frozen or takeout. The only thing he kept in the pantry was bread and peanut butter. He doubted Daryl would want to be rubbed down with either.

Moving aside old cans of broth and vegetables, Rick let out a whispered little “yes!” in victory. A mostly full jar of coconut oil stood there in the corner with a thin layer of dust on the lid. He pulled it out and left the lotion next to a box of old bread crumbs.

Back in the bedroom, he was greeted with an absolute vision. Daryl had sprawled out on his stomach, pillows shoved aside so he could rest his head on folded arms. His shoulder blades jutted out slightly. Muscles formed peaks on either side of a valley that led directly to Daryl’s pale, round ass.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Rick said, and Daryl turned his head to look at him while Rick walked around the bed with the jar of oil tucked in his arm. “You comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” Rick reached out to smooth the other man’s hair back, watching affectionately when Daryl’s eyes fluttered at the touch. “I’m gonna strip. Is that okay?”

“Mhm.”

Setting the jar down, Rick unbuttoned his own shirt and pulled it off before tugging his white undershirt up over his head. He reached for the button of his jeans.

“Fuck,” Daryl said quietly, and Rick paused to look at him.

“What was that?”

“Nothin,” Daryl said. “Just kinda thinkin I shoulda paid your friend and not the other way around.”

Rick huffed. It had been a long time since he’d felt even remotely sexy. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans. Leaving only his boxer briefs on, he climbed up on the bed and straddled Daryl’s ass.

“Mind handin me that?” he asked, and Daryl grabbed the coconut oil off the night stand and handed it back.

Admiring the taut muscles now that he had a closer view, Rick unscrewed the lid and dug out a decent-sized scoop of oil that he plopped on Daryl’s back. Solid white melted slowly from the warmth of the hooker’s skin while he fumbled to get the lid back on with greasy hands.

“Guess I’m out of practice,” he said, letting the jar drop to the floor next to his clothes with a quiet thud.

“Best I ever had,” Daryl said, and Rick reached forward and pressed both hands into the still mostly solid clump, encouraging it to melt as he kneaded up the sides of the other man’s back.

“If I go too hard or hit a sore spot or anything, let me know,” Rick said, trailing his hands up to Daryl’s shoulders. He curved his fingers over and brushed them against the hooker’s collarbones before squeezing into the muscles there. Daryl sighed and moaned softly, the sound forcing Rick to swallow thickly.

The officer stayed on the other man’s shoulders for a bit, occasionally trailing oil down his arms to squeeze insanely defined biceps. When he felt he’d given both areas ample attention, he moved his hands down to the areas around Daryl’s shoulder blades. 

He focused on the middle right behind the bones, the spot where he knew he always carried tension. Thumbs pressed in deep and kneaded upward across knots of stress. Daryl moaned louder and Rick couldn’t help but shift to rut against him a little.

God, and he probably could have cum just from dry humping Daryl’s ass. While he worked his hands along the length below the prostitute’s shoulder blades, he imagined putting his cock between the pale white globes and fucking the crease. He exhaled with unmistakable arousal.

But Daryl was enjoying the massage too much to either notice or care. There was no discernible response, though his own arousal was apparent too. Rick could feel him gently humping the bed sheets.

He moved his hands lower, scooting back onto Daryl’s thighs and rubbing up and down the sides of his back. Presented with the opportunity, he couldn’t stop himself from slicking oil down across Daryl’s cheeks and giving them a good squeeze. Nor could he stop himself from pulling them apart. The first glimpse of Daryl’s pink pucker made his breath hitch.

Not yet, Rick. Not yet.

He let go and Daryl’s ass obscured his inviting little hole once more. Biting his lip, he pushed his thumbs into the small of the other man’s back and rubbed them up and down. On each downstroke, he pushed his digits lower and lower, migrating slowly until they dipped slightly into the crack of the hooker’s ass.

Then Rick had to pause. Taking a deep breath, he palmed his cock just for a second. Anything to quiet the throbbing need begging him to push inside.

The officer tried his hardest to wait as long as he could before moving all of his attention to Daryl’s ass. Another rub of his hands up the full expanse of the other man’s back, a hook and squeeze at the shoulders, a trail down his arms, and a slow drag back down.

And then Rick started kneading each cheek properly, massaging them in earnest. Daryl’s hips rolled down into the mattress. On the fourth or fifth squeeze, Rick let his thumbs dip between the globes and ghost over the puckered muscle. Daryl let out a ragged breath and wiggled back.

“You like that?” Rick asked. Feeling emboldened, he used one hand to pry and hold Daryl’s ass apart while he massaged the rim in gentle little circles with his thumb.

“Please,” Daryl begged softly. And Rick almost complied, but the sound of Daryl begging was too beautiful to give up that easily. He trailed his index finger up Daryl’s crease and then down to trace softly around his balls.

“What do you want?” Rick asked.

“Put ‘em in,” Daryl said, his hips rolling.

“How many?” he asked, partially because the back and forth was turning him on, partially because he didn’t wanna fuck up and hurt Daryl. He’d never fucked anyone in the ass before, fingers or otherwise.

“One or two,” he said. “Stay pretty open.”

Rick didn’t know what he meant by staying pretty open, but he could certainly count. Taking a deep breath, he swirled his middle finger around Daryl’s ass one more time and slowly pushed in.

“Daryl,” he said. “You’re gonna have to help me.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never done this,” Rick said. “But I want you to like it. Want it to feel good for you. Help me do that?”

“Add a little more oil,” Daryl said, and Rick cursed himself for dropping the bottle. Sliding one leg over onto the floor, he reached down and picked it up, his back protesting a bit for no reason other than the fact that he was older than he used to be.

He dipped his fingers into the oil to coat them thoroughly and then slid one back into Daryl’s ass. This time, he let the jar stay on the bed.

“Another,” Daryl said. Rick added another finger and slowly moved them in and out of the prostitute’s ass.

“How do I make it feel good?” Rick asked. “Or does...”

“Could just fuck me,” Daryl said. 

“I could,” Rick said, and his cock more than agreed with that sentiment, twitching a little in his underwear. But he wanted to know how to make another man cum, and more than that he really wanted to make _this_ man cum. “But I want to know.”

“Feel around,” he said, and Rick could tell from the tone of his voice that he was a little embarrassed. It sounded the same as it had earlier when he admitted that his fantasy was a simple back massage. “You’ll know it when you find it.”

Rick explored the insides of Daryl’s walls with his fingers, feeling and softly massaging along the flesh.

“Other way,” Daryl said. “Lil deeper.”

He followed the directions, and then he felt it, the thing that Daryl had to be talking about. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to do, but he had a feeling touching it was the idea. He gently pushed against it.

“There?”   
  
“Mhm. Now just...” Daryl paused and cleared his throat, and Rick swore he could see the pink on the other man’s cheeks. “Just little circles and back and forth and...”

“How hard?” Rick asked. “Say when.”

Rick slowly added pressure, massaging in soft circles while he listened to Daryl’s breath stutter in and out of his chest.

The word “when” came as more of a muffled whine than anything. Daryl had his face turned into the space between his folded arms, and Rick longed to see what it looked like screwed up with pleasure. He stopped rubbing and eased his fingers out.

“Turn over.”

Daryl turned over obediently and tucked an arm back under his head. Now Rick had a perfect view of both his face and his erection, both flushed with arousal. He wrapped his fingers around the latter and stroked just to watch Daryl react, his eyes falling shut and his mouth slacking.

Tracing his fingers around the hooker’s balls again, Rick dipped them back into the crease of his ass and slid them inside, finding his mark and starting his massage all over again. Daryl moaned, and Rick watched his forehead wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Jesus, he really was gorgeous.

Petting the other man’s thigh with his free hand, Rick shifted down the mattress until he was kneeling between Daryl’s calves. He looked up to find the other man regarding him even as he moaned softly from Rick’s continued rubbing.

His eyes trained on Daryl’s fluttering blues, the officer leaned forward and ran his tongue up the other man’s erection. The hooker exhaled loudly in a series of broken sighs. 

“Got condoms when you...fuck.”

Rick paused and mentally swore. He wanted to taste Daryl so bad, wanted to savor every little leak of precum, every ounce of his release when he finally got him there.

But he knew better. The man was still a hooker even if he was careful. There could be things he didn’t know about yet even if he got tested like clockwork. Hell, Rick could have something and not know it even though it wasn't likely. 

Rick sighed.

“Don’t gotta,” Daryl said. “I mean…while you’re doin that, most of the risk’s yours. Up to you. Do gotta wear one to fuck me though. Sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong suggesting it,” Rick said. “Where are they?”

“Jeans. Little box thing.”

Rick pulled his fingers out again and did another awkward move to grab Daryl’s pants off the floor. A dig through the pockets and he found a tiny plastic case. Inside were two condoms.

“Why the box?” Rick asked. 

“Lady at the clinic gave it to me,” he said. “Got a whole lecture on how keepin ‘em in my pocket or my wallet can fuck ‘em up.”

“Hmm.”

“Green one’s mint. If you...” Daryl fidgeted and looked away. “Hate the other flavors but that one ain’t bad.”

Rick pulled it out and tossed the case back to Daryl who set it on the night stand. He briefly imagined putting it on, fucking Daryl, and then tasting his minty fresh asshole.

But he slowly rolled it onto Daryl’s erection instead, following it down with his lips while he slipped two digits back inside of the other man’s hole. And Daryl was right, it wasn’t bad. Just a slight hint of mint, though Rick still would have preferred the taste of the other man. Even if he wasn’t sure what that tasted like exactly.

Hindered both by the rubber and by inexperience, Rick did his best to bob up and down Daryl’s length and massage him inside simultaneously. Fumbling as it was, it must have been decent enough, because the time between Daryl’s groans and swears lessened with every movement.

“Gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

Rick gave an extra hard little stroke with his fingers and hummed around the erection filling his mouth.

“Ah fuck.” One of Daryl’s hands found its way to Rick’s head, fingers curling into his waves and grabbing tight. And the officer took it as encouragement to keep going, massaging just a little harder and feeling a little too proud when Daryl’s groans and swears became an endless stream of begging.

“Please don’t stop. Please.” 

Rick didn’t stop, not even a pause.

“Gonna.” Daryl squeezed tighter, pulling a bit on Rick’s hair. In response, Rick moved his head faster and massaged a little harder still.

The sound of Daryl cumming was the most beautiful thing Rick had ever heard in his entire life. There was a split second of silence that stretched on for an eternity—the eye of a hurricane passing over. When the storm finally it, it hit with a gruff moan that seemed to rip its way out of Daryl’s chest straight from his diaphragm. His whole body trembled with it, and fingers gripped Rick’s hair so tightly he could vividly imagine white knuckles. His cock twitched between his lips.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck,” Daryl said, though all the words bled together into one long stream. Dontstopdontstopdontstopfuck. 

Rick kept massaging and moving his mouth up and down the other man’s erection until the words shifted from don't to please. 

“Please stop, please stop.”

Rick stopped, pulling off and easing his fingers out of Daryl’s still-twitching pucker. A few panting breaths later, the other man let go of his hair, messily stroking it a couple of times before he pulled his hand away. Rick took it as a thank you.

Trailing kisses up Daryl’s body on the way just because he could, he crawled back up the mattress to lay down beside him. Daryl turned his head, intense blue eyes staring at him in a way that made Rick want to devour him whole. Instead he reached over and trailed fingertips over the hooker's stomach, tracing small patterns around his belly button.

“Want me to get you again?” Daryl asked, nodding toward the clothed erection nestled against his thigh. He moved his leg so that it gently rubbed against the officer’s cock. And Rick considered pulling himself free and rutting against that bit of flesh until he covered it in his release. But he bit back that desire, reaching out and stopping the movement with his hand.

“Gonna fuck you in a bit.”

“Good,” Daryl said. “What you wanna do until then?”

Rick thought it over briefly before slipping his hand around the back of Daryl’s neck and pulling him into another kiss. Where the one they’d shared in the kitchen earlier had felt like two opposing songs slowly melting into harmony, this one felt like an entire soundtrack.

It was at times languid and light, full of soft touches and kitten licks. At other times, it was intense and frenzied, teeth nipping at lips, tongues aggressively meeting and stroking while they moaned into each other’s mouths. There were occasional pauses. They’d rest their foreheads together and catch their breath. Or Rick would take the opportunity to taste the salt on Daryl’s neck or trace the curvature of his ear with his tongue. Or Daryl would suck on his collarbone or run his tongue along the column of Rick’s throat.

They went on like that for what felt like centuries, until Daryl mouthed a wet trail to Rick’s ear and whispered, “ready when you are.”

Rick smiled softly and reached for the tiny plastic case on his night stand.

 


	5. Fingers Like Coals

Everything in Rick’s world was heat. The part of his brain still forming rational thoughts regretted not turning on the ceiling fan before starting Daryl’s back rub. The make out session and impending fuck had left him feeling a lot like he was standing too close to a campfire.

Daryl’s fingers were coals, hot as they wormed their way under the waistband of his underwear and tugged them down his thighs. His tongue was fire, licking a teasing stripe up Rick’s cock before he rolled the condom down, gently massaging his balls with the other hand. Lube followed in the form of coconut oil rubbed up and down Rick’s shaft.

This was really happening.

“Want me to start on top?” Daryl asked, and Rick couldn’t think of a reason to say no. As much as he wanted to claim Daryl again and again, to rail him in every conceivable position until neither of them could walk straight, he still had no fucking idea what he was doing. It seemed a lot simpler to let Daryl show him, at least until he got his bearings.

“Go on.”

Daryl crawled on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. And looking up at the hooker from that angle, Rick had zero regrets. Daryl was gorgeous beyond words. Sweat beaded around his temples, the front of his hair damp with it.

“You good?” Daryl asked. Rick nodded and watched him reach behind his back, his fingers finding and wrapping around his cock to hold it steady. Then whatever parts of the officer’s world weren’t already burning caught sparks and began to blaze.

Rick’s eyes slammed shut, and he was pretty sure his ears stopped working too for a brief moment. Every other sense but touch faded away until all that was left was the almost-too-tight warmth of Daryl sliding down around him.

“Jesus,” Rick whispered, using every bit of willpower he had left not to buck up into the other man’s perfect body. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to not do. The seconds it took for Daryl to fully engulf him stretched on and on and on, decades and centuries and fucking eons of pressure rolling down onto his erection like lava slowly bubbling down the sides of a volcano.  

When Daryl finally finished sinking, Rick was panting like he’d just run 10 blocks after a suspect. He finally understood all the filthy things Shane had said about anal over the years. Though none of what Shane said about women compared to having a man sink down onto him, all heavy breaths and soft grunts. Rick could have recorded that 30 seconds of audio and masturbated to nothing else for the rest of his life.

“Can move if you want,” Daryl said, and Rick opened his eyes back up to take in the sight of the hooker impaled on him, his cock erect and fighting gravity. Gently, Rick rocked his hips. Daryl followed the motion, raising up and sliding back down on him. His cock twitched with the motion.

“Touch yourself,” Rick said, and Daryl obeyed immediately, wrapping a hand around his shaft and stroking slowly. They found a rhythm easily, like they were doing a dance they’d rehearsed for years. Even with Daryl on top, Rick quickly took the lead, the other man following his motions until they were one fluid being undulating and groaning.

“Lean over,” Rick said, and Daryl did, his erection pressing against his stomach and smearing precum across the skin. The officer kissed him feverishly, bucking into his needy hole again and again while Daryl groaned and whined into his mouth.

Daryl broke the kiss first and pressed their sweaty foreheads together, strands of dark wet hair forming curtains around their faces. He panted hot and damp against Rick’s cheek. And the officer barely heard the mumbled string of words that came of his mouth, though he was grateful to every deity mankind had ever dreamed up that he didn’t miss them.

“Roll me over and destroy me.”

Rick tightened the arm he currently had slung over Daryl’s back and rolled them both. Somewhere in the shuffle, his foot got tangled in a sheet and he kicked at it wildly. Legs tightened around his waist, pulling him in deeper while he struggled to get free.

Finally the sheet fell away. Rick shifted his body for leverage, leaned down to peck Daryl once on the lips, and set out to do exactly what Daryl had asked him to. God he should have done this so much sooner. Then again, he wouldn't trade having the experience with Daryl for anything. 

As he gained in depth and intensity, he managed to growl out an order to the hooker currently digging his short fingernails into his back.

“Don’t let me hurt you.”

“Won’t,” Daryl grunted, and then he slipped his hands down to Rick’s ass to pull him inside even more forcefully.

The next few minutes were all violent flames, licking erratically at every combustible thing in their path, shooting flashes of hot red embers up toward the heavens. Daryl slipped a hand between their sweaty bodies, grabbing hold of his erection and stroking while Rick turned them both into a pile of ash.

And Rick still had no clue exactly how to please Daryl, but whatever it was he seemed to be doing it just the same. Daryl’s pants grew shorter and more desperate, and mumbled swears leaked out from between his lips like water.

“No,” Rick murmured quietly, even as his sweat-slicked hands slipped down the skin he’d been gripping. He wasn’t ready to cum. He wasn’t ready for this to end. “No, no, no.”

Daryl tried to ask him what was wrong, but the only word he got out was a huffed, “wrong?” Rick caught the inflection of a question just the same.

“Don’t wanna cum yet,” he said, licking Daryl’s neck. He tasted nothing but salt. “Stay inside you forever.”

“Shit,” Daryl hissed, a whine catching somewhere in the back of his throat. God the sounds he made were like sin in a bottle, and Rick wanted to drink every fucking drop until he was inebriated with lust. He grazed the column of Daryl’s throat with his teeth and felt his next words vibrate against his lips. “Wish you could.”

But all the wishes and wants in the world couldn’t stop the inevitable, not with Daryl’s hot body so tight around him. Not with Daryl moaning desperately in his ear.

“Ah fuck,” Rick groaned, the sound rugged and gruff. The whole universe tilted on its axis for a moment, the orgasm flooding through him. And then he pumped out his release, thrusting through every twitch of his cock, unwilling to give up a single moment of pleasure.

Weightlessness settled into his bones and he was overwhelmed with the need to put his mouth on Daryl again. He found his lips and kissed him, his own lips sloppy in his post-orgasm bliss. When he finally rolled off and ditched the condom in the bedside trash can, he turned back toward the other man with the full intent of finishing him off. He owed him that much.

But Daryl’s tummy was streaked with white.

“When did…?” Rick reached over and ran a finger through it, surprised when Daryl grabbed his hand and brought it to his mouth to suck it clean.

“Right before you did,” he said, licking his lips.

A small pang of regret hit Rick. He’d missed it. But he reminded himself that he’d made Daryl cum earlier too, and he reached into the night stand drawer to get him a few tissues to clean up with.

“Thanks.”

The two men fell silent while they caught their breaths, and then Rick got Daryl into the shower with him, both of them cleaning each other up with soft drags of wash cloths and post-sex kisses. 

A couple of glasses of water, and they remade the bed together, pulling off the soiled sheets and putting on new ones. Rick sighed as he crawled into bed. There was nothing quite like crawling into fresh, clean sheets after a shower. Especially with a gorgeous boy settling in next to him.

“Is there a time I need to wake you up?” Rick asked. “Know you’re only mine til mornin.”

“Nah,” Daryl said. “Bed’s a hell of a lot better than mine. Better company too.”

“You have company at home?” And Rick was surprised to find himself fighting back a small twinge of jealousy. As good as the sex was, it was just a job for Daryl. The other man didn’t owe him anything.

“Idiot brother,” Daryl said. “He’s got the ugliest mutt named Scooter. Always wake up to a face full of dog slobber.”

Rick chuckled quietly.

“I promise not to slobber you awake.”

“Promise I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Daryl said, shifting on his side and getting comfortable. He tucked a pillow in between his arm and his head. Rick could see the droopiness in his pretty blue eyes even in the dark and reached over to stroke his damp hair.

“How much did Shane pay for you anyway?” Rick asked. And he told himself it was just curiosity, but really he wanted to know what it would cost to see him again and again. 

And again.

“Hundred bucks.”

“You need to charge a lot more, sweetheart,” Rick said, gently tugging Daryl closer. The other man scooted obligingly, curling his body in toward the officer’s and almost burying his face in his chest. Smiling fondly, Rick settled onto his own pillow. The events of the evening had finally caught up with him too, and Daryl’s proximity felt like a promise that he’d get a great night’s sleep. He wouldn’t even come close to feeling alone, not tonight.

With a soft sigh, he let his eyes close. Somewhere on the edge of consciousness in that place where reality and dreams blur, he thought he heard Daryl mutter, “and you need to call me on my day off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for this one, folks. Let your imaginations run wild now. Thanks for following along with this and putting up with me forgetting I was even writing it for like 12 years. xoxo


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